


Laying Pipe

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Season 13 Inspired [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x21, Anal Sex, Books, Bossy Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean, Bottoming from the Top, Coda, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex in the Library, Smut and Fluff, Spit As Lube, The Dangers of Not Using Actual Lube, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Walking In On Someone, beat the devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 08:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14540904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: We saw Rowena and Gabriel take down Lucifer... but where were the other three? Someone had to go with them, to drive. That left Dean and Cas to their own devices. But what can they do to fill the time for the others to come back? Maybe with some inspiration from friends and an interesting read... they'll figure something out.Coda to 13x21





	Laying Pipe

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna preface this with: it was so hard to come up with something to write after this episode. Like, there was so much going on and it all felt kind of wrapped up neatly, ideas were slim. Especially with what happened to Sam like - come on. That was probably one of their best episodes this season. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this!

            “Why do we have to stay behind again?”

            Castiel looks up from where he’s playing with the fruit from the Tree of Life: lining them up in rows and patterns only to sweep them all into the bag and start over. Dean pulls books from their shelves, searching for anything to keep his hands busy. He looks over his shoulder at the angel, locking eyes for a brief instant before returning to his task.

            “I mean,” he continues, “Beating the Devil should be a five-person team… we should have gone with.”

            “It was Sam’s plan, Dean,” Castiel says, spinning the fruit now, “He deemed it necessary for only the three of them… I’m sure he has his reasons.”

            “But it’s not fair,” Dean whines, finally admitting to the thoughts needling him since the others’ departure, “If we can’t get into the other world, at least give me _something_ to do! I’d be up for taking down Lucifer.”

            “Dean, seriously, think who Sam brought with him,” Castiel stops him, “Rowena, who Lucifer killed – _repeatedly_. Gabriel: whom Lucifer killed. And Sam, who… well you know.”

            The other man considers the angel’s point. When Sam had ordered the two to stay behind, there was a look in his eye. One that Dean couldn’t give a name to in the moment, too distracted by being benched. But now that he thinks about it, it matched the gleam in the archangel’s and the witch’s gazes as well.

            But there’s a problem with Castiel’s reasoning. “If that were the case,” Dean starts, “Why didn’t he bring you?”

            Castiel fiddles with the fruit – now off the table and in his lap – “I… My retribution has already been carried out; in more ways than one.” He smirks, “Not only have I beaten him up, I took from him something he so dearly wants.”

            “What’s that?”

            “Jack.”

            Dean nods, fully understanding his words. When Castiel had returned from Asmodeus’s prison, he clued both Winchesters in to Lucifer’s return. It was with great glee that the angel described his older brother’s face when he told him that Jack considered Castiel to be his father, and Lucifer nothing but a helping hand. It was watching a kid on Christmas morning, opening up a present to find a puppy. Only this puppy looked dejected and rejected, going through a centuries long mid-life crisis.

            “So…” Dean says, smacking the book in his hand in rhythm, “What do we do until we get back?”

            Castiel shrugs, “I’m sure we can fill the time somehow…”

            Dean smirks, an idea coming to mind. “We could, y’know,” he starts, trailing fingers up the spine of the book, “Pick up where Gabriel and Rowena left off… time flies when you’re having fun and all that junk.”

            The angel rolls his eyes, “Dean, please. I almost had bleached that entire scene from my memory.”

            “Sorry, sorry,” Dean says, “Just a suggestion.” He rakes his eyes up and down Castiel’s body – ‘ _well, what of it I can see_ ’ – and quirks a brow. ‘ _I never know if Cas wants to smite me or fuck me when he looks like that… preferably the latter._ ’ Dean breaks free from the whirlpool of Castiel’s eyes and turns towards his book: _Laying Pipe_. ‘ _Wow_ ,’ Dean thinks, flipping through the first few pages, ‘ _Real subtle there…_ ’

            Castiel’s stare doesn’t back away when Dean shows his back to him. Instead, it slowly traverses the lines of Dean’s body, appreciating every inch. When he happens upon the swell of the other man’s ass, he suppresses a shudder, licking his suddenly dry lips. ‘ _What I wouldn’t give to have even a few seconds with Dean like that…_ ’

            “Hey Cas,” Dean suddenly turns back, startling the angel. He reacted too slowly, however, and the hunter has caught the angel, metaphorically, with his hand in the cookie jar. A subtle blush dusts Castiel’s cheeks, and he tugs at his collar like a man nearing the gallows.

            “What?” Castiel rumbles out, voice low and gravelly even for him, “What is it?”

            Dean slaps his book closed, earlier question forgotten. He grins, stalking toward his prey. Castiel does not dare look away, trapped in the magnetic pull of Dean’s eyes – the green delightfully flickering with a fire behind them.

            “I think I know how to pass the time,” Dean drawls, leaning forward on the table, “If you… y’know… still wanna do more than toss your _fruit_.”

            “And what.” Castiel clears his throat, fingers tight on the edge of the table, “What do you have in mind?”

            “I don’t know, it’s stupid but…” he fiddles with his thumbs, batting his lashes up at the angel, “Maybe we could… _lay some pipe_?”

            Castiel all but growls, “ _Dean –“_

He’s cut off, the other man pulling him in by his tie until their mouths meet in holy union. Castiel’s grip on the wood nearly breaks the pieces off into his hands, but the hold goes slack, as he finds purchase elsewhere. Raking his fingers through Dean’s hair, Castiel moves further into the other man’s space. He brings one knee up onto the table, knocking the bag of fruit onto the floor, sending the ingredient scattering.

            “Be careful there, buddy,” Dean chuckles, “You don’t want to make a mess now, do –“

            “Later,” Castiel says, knocking the rest of the table’s contents onto the floor, “Now. Need this _now_.” Dean doesn’t add anything else, just his other knee so now both man and angel kneel on the furniture. Both whisper prayers of longing into each other’s mouths, offering their bodies for worship. Castiel scratches at Dean’s neck, marking him bit by bit with his claim. Dean has released Castiel’s tie, instead clutching at the lapels of the trench coat, struggling with it.

            They break for air, Dean pushing Castiel onto his back. “Let’s take this up a notch,” he says, leaning closer and closer until their noses kiss. He breathes, hands sliding down the wrinkled button down until it rests on the angel’s belt. Finally, Dean’s lips resume contact as he slips the buckle open. The button and zipper follow soon after, and Castiel wiggles his lower body, helping Dean out. His pants and underwear bunch at his knees.

            “I think,” Castiel starts, Dean mouthing his way down his neck, “I think it’s time for you to… for you… _ooohhhh_ …”

            “Like that?” he asks, pulling away. On Castiel’s neck, there’s a small purplish mark, already starting to fade, “Don’t get too excited… ‘m not done _sucking_.” Dean repositions himself: ass in the air, face closer to the angel’s privates. A thicket of pubes covers Castiel’s cock, like bramble in a forest. His head is already starting to swell red, little beads of precum leaking. He chuckles, squeezing at Castiel’s balls, eliciting another moan from overhead. “Yeah,” he says, “Keep ‘em comin’, angel.” Dean swallows him down, tongue flat, and hollows out his cheeks.

            Castiel mutters in Enochian, back arching from the sensation. There’s no mercy, Dean sucking him down without abandon. His eyes seize, rolling back into his head as his lids flutter. His gut tightens, a little turn piece twisting and compressing him further and further until he breaks.

            Dean pops off Cas’s cock, licking a long stripe up from the base to the tip. “Cas,” he starts, lips shiny and slick, “I don’t… I don’t know what you eat, but that was the sweetest thing I’ve ever _tasted_.”

            “Don’t eat,” he wheezes, “Can’t… Dean, don’t stop… please –“

            “Relax,” Dean says, “Don’t want to take this too fast. Here,” he takes Castiel’s hands and puts them on his belt, “Help me with this.”

            “Okay, but why can’t you –“

            He’s cut off, Dean shoving two fingers into his mouth. Castiel fumbles, hands freezing on Dean’s button. The other man raises a brow, waiting.

            “Don’t stop, Cas,” Dean tells him, “ _Suck._ Get my fingers nice and wet.” The angel doesn’t misunderstand. He laps at the digits while he zips Dean free of his jeans. With help from Dean’s other hand, his outfit matches Castiel’s in style. His hand doesn’t move away from Castiel’s lips until the angel’s had lays back on the table.

            “Next time,” Dean promises, taking his hands behind him and out of sight, “I’m gonna teach you how to do this, so I don’t go and accidentally pull something.”

            “Next time?”

            Dean pauses, finally turning his brain back on, sticking instincts in the passenger seat where it usually resides. Castiel watches Dean for the other shoe – brow quirked, lips pulled down into a frown, ready to retract his question. But even in the dark, twisted corners of self-loathing and shame of Dean’s brain, there’s no part of what he said that was untrue.

            He smirks, fingers bumping in and out of his hole, “Yeah. Next time. You’re gonna stick _your_ fingers in me, and they’ll jerk, they’ll crook, hit my prostate, and you’ll –“

            “And then I’ll use my tongue.”

            Dean raises his brow this time. Castiel fidgets at the scrutiny, eyes darting to the side, fists balling the tails of his coat nervously. The hunter chuckles though, drawing the angel’s gaze to him once more with the gentle touch of his palm.

            “If that’s what you want,” Dean says, “You never say no to a rim job – especially when your partner is a gorgeous angel with a _sinful_ body.”

            “If anyone is the paradox, it’s you Dean,” Cas sighs, cupping the hunter’s face in his hands, “Down to earth, but heaven to touch… “

            “Enough talking,” Dean mumbles, “You say too many nice things and I’ll lose interest…”

            Castiel chuckles now, “If you say so.” He pulls the other man towards him, this kiss sweeter and more sensual than all the others. Castiel nips at the hunter’s lips like the first frost of winter, while his breath warms him like the rays of sunshine after a cloudy day. Dean almost forgets about the fingers starting to cramp at his hole.

            “Alright,” Dean says, pulling away, “I think it’s time…” He removes his hand, wiping his fingers on his shirt, before positioning himself over Castiel’s cock. They lock eyes once more, “You ready?”

            “Are you?” Castiel asks, “You seem to be forgetting a very important thing here…”

            “In dire circumstances, spit can substitute for lube,” Dean tells him, “And we’ve waited too long for me to go and get that stuff.”

            “Still,” he warns, “I’m not sure it’ll be enjoyable if –“

            “Bottoms up!” Dean says, sinking himself down on Castiel’s cock, hole clenching and unclenching the further he impales himself on the angel’s blade. He feels the burn, stars exploding behind his eyes as lightning shoots its way up his spine. “Son of a bitch!” Dean yells, collapsing onto the angel’s chest. Castiel fares only slightly better, teeth tearing into lip as the hunter squeezes his member in the most intimate of pledges.

            “Dean,” Castiel whispers, “You need to… you need to move.”

            “No, no,” he mumbles against his chest, “You were right… Oh, God what was I thinking?”

            “Too tight,” the angel says, “Dean, please relax. It’ll get better…” The other man doesn’t move, so he has to coax him through other means. Castiel hugs Dean close, nose buried deep into the hunter’s hair, and starts to rotate his hips. Dean moans against him, Castiel having hit Dean’s prostate at the right angle.

            “Please, Dean,” Castiel starts, “I’ll make it enjoyable… but you need to _move_.”

            “Okay… okay…” Dean shoves himself off Castiel’s chest, inch by inch unsheathing the angel’s cock from his ass like his name was Arthur. Just as the tip passes free of his rim, he stops. Castiel positions himself, and then nods for Dean to slide himself back down. This time he eases his way – treating the pole more like a stripper than a fireman. When Castiel is once more fully inside Dean, he thrusts forward, forcing a moan from Dean.         

            “Right there, Cas!” Dean says, “Again!” He repeats the steps from before, and soon enough they work up a rhythm. Dean arches his back, hands splayed on either side of Castiel. He grips tight at the hunter’s hips, staining the flesh there a deep plum. Their breaths shorten, and Dean can feel everything within him set aflame. Like he’s in a Looney Tunes cartoon and someone threw a match into the dynamite shed, ready to burst.

            “Cas, I’m gonna… I’m gonna –“

            “Dean,” he moans, “Yes… I’m right there with you… yes!”

            “I’m gonna –“

            Dean spurts his load all over Castiel’s shirt, painting it with streaks of white that darken the fabric. The angel comes inside Dean’s ass, filling him up from the inside and soothing each sore with the fluid. He collapses once more onto him, a lazy smile finding its way on to his face. Petting Dean’s hair, Castiel relaxes.

            “That was…” he starts, voice raw from impact, “ _glorious_.”

            “You took the words straight from my mouth,” Dean sighs, digging his chin into Castiel’s chest as he looks up into the angel’s eyes. “Should we clean up?”

            “In a bit,” he says, “I’m sure the others won’t be back for a –“

            “We’re back!”

            Gabriel practically skips into the room, Rowena not far behind him. They skid to a halt, however, when the notice the state of disarray the room and its occupants are in. Dean jumps at the entrance, rolling off Castiel and onto the floor. He bites back a curse, pain shooting up his still sore ass. The angel pulls himself up as well, hurrying his outfit together.

            “Did we ah,” Rowena starts, giggling, “ _come_ at a bad time, boys?”

            “I say we had perfect timing,” Gabriel joins in, “Gotta love Karma – and I ain’t talkin’ bout one of the women I’ve had sex with.” He thinks, “Although, funnily enough, both were bitches.”

            “Gabriel, Rowena, you say nothing!” Castiel growls, tucking himself back into his pants, side-stepping Dean who lays curled up on the floor, surrounded by the Fruit of Life, “We were just – we were –“

            “You were doing what?” Sam walks in now, dragging Lucifer behind him. He eyes the room, Castiel, and then Dean’s fetal form. Sighing, he massages his temple, “You guys, too? What is it about the library?”

            “Oh you know, Sammy,” Gabriel claps him on the shoulder, “it’s the perfect place to… _lay some pipe_.”

            The others groan from the pun, all except Dean, who still groans from the pain.

            “Whatever,” Sam says, “Can one of you help him up so we can extract Lucifer’s grace?”

            Gabriel chimes in, “Looks like some grace was _already_ extracted here – _oof_!” Rowena nudges him to stop. Castiel rolls his eyes, but moves back towards Dean. He assists him with pulling his pants back up, restoring _some_ dignity to him, and gets him onto his legs. The hunter wobbles a bit, and leans against the table.

            “Next time,” Dean whispers, “We do this in my room. More privacy and lube.”

            Castiel smiles, “Agreed.”

            “Well then, we haven’t got all day,” Rowena lilts, rearranging the ingredients back onto the table, “Let’s get a move on shall we?”

            The group sets Lucifer up, ready to move forward into the apocalypse world – each with their own sense of closure.

**Author's Note:**

> Did y'all like? Let me know! Drop a kudos or a comment!


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